Stupid Girl
by sdeei9285
Summary: Hermione can't seem to keep herself out of trouble - or her enemy's arms. Rated M just in case and for potential future chapters.
1. Official Prologue

**A/N:** So, here is the official prologue. I didn't get any feedback on that little bit I posted, but I did get a few people that added it to their Story Alerts, so I took that as a positive thing and went from there. I wrote this with hopes that it will earn a little more faith from you guys and maybe some feedback. It would be greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading.

**Disclaimer**: J.K. Rowling owns everything but the plot.

Information passed through this school like a tornado, quickly and with a lot of destruction.

A few brief stares. A smile. A few kind words. All shared with her enemy, and suddenly they were lovers. For once, the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had it right, but only by a stroke of luck and a few misheard whispers. It sickened her. The way girls could be your best friend one second, and the next you're their dirtiest dish of gossip to their new best friend. They guys were no better, really.

Now, thank you to the brilliant minds of this school, most of the students hated her. All but one. She could feel their glares coming from all directions, each and every house, with the exception of the Slytherins, funnily enough. Or maybe it was just that she was used to those glares. The only reason their hate wasn't renewed was because they didn't believe the latest nonsensical student blather. They knew better. Or so they thought.

Her best friends had turned against her. She was the butt of many cruel jokes. She kept quiet. Mostly to keep it from him. She knew what would happen if he were to find out. It had already happened too many times before with many who were insignificant too her. Their deaths stilled weighed heavy on her shoulders. She couldn't let it happen to her friends. Her _former_ friends, she constantly had to remind herself.

Unfortunately, while fuming from the latest taunts, she let a name slip. While in the Room of Requirements. With him.

"What did he do to you?"

"Nothing."

"If you don't tell me, I'll kill him right now."

"You'll kill him anyway," she muttered, knowing the only possible outcome.

"Tell me what he did, and maybe I'll make it less painful for him. Don't let my imagination run wild."

"He called me a traitorous slag. That's all. It was no big deal." It came out quickly, hoping that would make its effect less dramatic. She wished she had never even mentioned the man's name.

"That's a huge deal. I'll be back in a little while. Don't wait up for me, love." He was so calm. For now. He grabbed his cloak and turned to the door.

"Please don't go…"

"You know I have to."

"You don't."

"I do," he said, with a gentle kiss to her forehead. It soothed her, but also frightened her as she knew its contrast to what was to come. She swept the silver blonde hair out of his eyes. She sighed in resignation.

"There's nothing I can say, is there?"

"No, my love. I'll be back soon." With that, he was gone. She fell to the floor on her knees; all her strength had left her, just as he had, quickly and completely. Tears poured out of her eyes, knowing Seamus Finnegan's death was soon to come, and it would be on her hands.

He arrived back at the Room of Requirements late that night with a calm facade. Although, as he spotted Hermione curled up on the bed, obviously coming down from a long, hard cry, any semblance of calmness he once had was long gone. He was across the room and had her in his arms in seconds.

"What happened? Who did this?" he growled. Hermione buried her face in his chest, incapable of answering as the sobs overtook her once more. He roughly pulled her away from him and looked at her face. "Tell me who did this!" he demanded.

"You."

"What?" His voice was quiet, and confused. "No, love. I want to know who hurt you." He tried to speak soothingly, as he thought she was confused due to her distress.

"It was you. You hurt me. You hurt my friend." She tried to pull away from him. Why couldn't he understand?

"You call that filthy Irish half-breed a friend? After what he said to you? It wasn't me that hurt you. It was that fucking, useless waste of space." His rage was causing his whole body to shake. His hands were in fists; his knuckles had gone white.

"You hurt me more than you'll ever know when you hurt the people around me." By hurt, she meant kill, but she was still unwilling to say it out loud.

"I'm only trying to protect you, my beautiful, little girl." He truly believed it.

"Stop protecting me. Please."

"We both know I can't do that."

"I don't need your protection. Besides, they're not worth it." She tried convincing from a different angle.

"But you are worth it. And I will do everything in my power to make sure no one can ever hurt you again."

"So you're going to eliminate anyone who's ever said a few unkind words to me?"

"If that's what it takes."

"Is this your sick way of making up for what you've done to me over the years?" He chose not to answer. She was fairly certain her suspicions were correct.

"I love you, you know." She crossed her arms over her chest, and stubbornly sat in silence, refusing to look at him, knowing she would melt. "You know I do. And you know you love me." She could feel his strong arm wrap around her waist. She closed her eyes and took in a sharp breath. There was no resisting him. Her body was leaning into his, wanting him. Needing him.

"I know. I love you, too."

"That's my girl. Come to bed with me." She allowed him to scoop her up and lay her into their bed. He slowly undressed her, with such love and care that it reminded her why she was still here. Why she would never be able to leave him. He covered her with the silk sheets, and placed a soft kiss on her exposed neck. She whimpered at the loss of his touch as he made his way around to the other side of the bed, where he undressed and slid himself between the sheets next to her.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her cold, naked body in close to his.

He made sweet love to her over and over, each time bringing her to climax and tears of pure joy. Her agony from before had completely disappeared. They fell asleep in each other's arms as the sun rose -dawn had arrived.

Her last thought as she drifted off to sleep was that this beautiful man was hers. All hers. Right now, in his arms, she could forget all about the terrible news she was sure to receive tomorrow.


	2. How It All Began

**A/N**: Here is my attempt at a first chapter. It's short, but I wanted to find a way to get more reads on this story. So, I figured I'd get another chapter out there. Enjoy. Thanks for reading.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing but the plot.

It all began with an unfortunate partner pairing in Potions class. Professor Slughorn, who had returned to Hogwarts after the war, retained his position as the Potions professor. Hermione didn't particularly like the rather cowardly man, but he knew his stuff – there was no denying that.

It was the first day of classes and already the third speech she had heard on inter-house unity, particularly for seventh years, as many who had chosen to return to properly finish the year could now be considered war veterans – and not all from the same side. The staff's newest attempt was to combine students from separate Houses into groups or pairs, whether it was for homework or classwork. In her previous classes, it worked out fine when she was paired up with Ernie MacMillan in Arithmancy and grouped with Cho Chang and Luna Lovegood in Ancient Runes. All was well.

But Potions would be another story, she knew. This was a Gryffindor-Slytherin class. She looked around the room, all hope for a good year in Potions draining from her. Theodore Nott was her best bet, really. Sure, he was a bit of an arsehole, but he was quiet and quite smart.

Unfortunately Ron was paired up with Nott right off the bat. There went that glimmer of hope. Hermione almost laughed when Harry was paired up with Pansy Parkinson not much later. Her options were really being narrowed down at this point. There were just a few left, including Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini. She practically prayed to be partnered with Zabini. While he was one of Malfoy's lackeys, he hadn't done near as much direct taunting as Malfoy himself. Malfoy was really the smarter of the two, but she didn't know if she could bear working so closely with him.

She was sure to find out soon enough, however. Zabini had been paired with Padma Patil. The two remaining nameless Slytherins were assigned to the other Patil twin and Lavender Brown. They had looked like complete imbeciles, but she may have fared better with them than she was sure to with Malfoy.

Resigning herself to her doom, Hermione stood up and seated herself next to Malfoy before Slughorn even called their names. There was an awkward moment where Hermione wasn't sure if she should say something or just remain silent. She decided too late, as her mouth acted of its own polite accord. Not to say she didn't try to stop it. She stuttered something out that resembled "hello," with a brief pause halfway through.

That next moment changed everything she thought she knew about Draco Malfoy. Malfoy looked over at her. Glared, really. But there was little hatred behind it. It seemed to be more of a charade than something with meaning. He didn't look angry; he just looked broken. Like a mere shadow of the boy he once was. Although, he was definitely no longer a boy.

She held her gaze on him a moment too long, she realized, but she was unable to take her eyes off of him. There was something so different about him. Something that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Breaking the awkward staring contest, Malfoy nodded curtly and then looked back up to Slughorn.

The professor assigned them a potion to create and set them to work.

"I -, well, I'll just…" she trailed off, unsure of where to begin. He once again turned to look at her with a raised eyebrow. "I'll get the ingredients," she mumbled, before leaving the table.

When she got back, she carefully placed the ingredients in the order they would be used across the table. She noticed he'd already prepared the cauldron and all the utensils they would need.

Not another word was spoken as they worked together quickly and efficiently on their potion. In the end, it had turned out perfect. They received a perfect score and were even excused from class early.

They exited the room together. Hermione paused as he shut the classroom door behind them, unsure if she should say anything. Maybe thank him. Or ask him what had changed. She was so confused by the whole encounter. Why hadn't he called her a mudblood? Hell, why hadn't he said a word to her? Let alone a cruel one.

But before she could gather anything to say, he was already halfway down the hallway.

At dinner that night, Hermione sat quietly among her friends and pondered on what had occurred earlier. Several times she had looked up and spotted Malfoy staring at her, looking as perplexed as she felt.

Harry, Seamus and Ron, who had all chosen to complete their educations (most likely for the sake of living another year without adult responsibilities), were discussing what had happened in Potions to themselves.

"Oh, sod off, Ron, you can't complain. You got the best partner out of all of us. I got stuck with Miss Slytherin Bitch herself!"

"Alright, mate, you're right. That's just wrong."

"At least none of us got stuck with Malfoy!" Seamus threw in, dragging Hermione into the conversation unwillingly.

"They looked pretty cozy working together to me. They were the first ones done," Ron said bitterly. He and Hermione had parted ways early the past summer. Hermione couldn't deal with Ron's newfound self-obsession and repeated war hero stories. They had parted amicably face to face, which had actually surprised her. However, she wasn't surprised at all to hear that he had a few choice names for her when she wasn't around.

"Oh, come off it. You're just jealous." Thank you, Seamus. "But to set your mind at ease, I'm sure Hermione here can tell you just how awful it was." Damn it, Seamus. The three boys looked at her expectantly.

"He didn't say a single word to me, so really I can't complain, considering."

"He said nothing at all?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Nothing at all. I'll just thank Merlin for that and the fact that he does know a little bit about what he's doing, as much as I hate to admit it." She tried to express her distaste for him in a subtle manner so they might drop the subject.

"Blimey, Hermione, doesn't that worry you at all?"

"No, Harry, it doesn't. Like I said, I'm just thankful. I doubt he's got anything bad in mind for me." She tried to get the idea out of his head before he could even really formulate it. She was certain he wasn't planning anything. She wasn't even sure of his sanity or capability to do such a thing at this point. There was no way she could share this with Harry and Ron, though. They would read far too much into it and somehow turn it into a malicious plan. She could understand. They'd been rivals since day one.

"All right. Just be careful, okay?" Looking up into Harry's concerned face, she couldn't help but shoot him a reassuring smile. He was such a sweet man. Ginny was truly lucky to have him.

"Don't worry. You know me; I'm always careful."

"Well, guys, it looks like it is me who has the worse partner, then! Parkinson is so daft. I was surprised we got through our potion at all. Fucking inter-house unity."

They all laughed. Hermione carefully edged her way back out of the conversation and focused on her meal. She wasn't feeling very social and just wanted to be left to her thoughts.

She looked back up at Malfoy and took advantage of the fact that he wasn't looking back at her. She studied him. She wanted to know what made him tick. He sat alone. Well, his friends were at his sides, but he still looked alone, somehow. He wasn't talking to anyone. He wasn't even sneering at anyone, as he was so apt to do in previous years. He looked rather forlorn and lost.

She quickly turned her eyes back down to her mashed potatoes when he looked her way once more.

That night, Hermione fell asleep thinking of Malfoy. And as she slept, she found him in her dreams.

Over the next month, Hermione's life passed by without event. Scarcely a word was spoken between her and Malfoy, besides the necessary in Potions, and yet, she still couldn't get him off her mind.

She found all the hatred she once held for him replaced with confusion. She almost wished he would go back to being the rude, obnoxious, little prat that he used to be, just so she could stop thinking about him.

It had been a chilly fall day, but Hermione had decided to take the evening off of homework and friends to relax and sit by the lake alone for a while. She had felt rather melancholy the past few weeks, and she was quickly growing tired of it. Would the war ever stop affecting her? Even just after Voldemort was killed, and she was surrounded by celebration and joy, she could only feel a deep, dark sadness. So many losses weighed heavily on her mind. She couldn't understand how everyone could just forget.

She summoned her happiest thought - her first day at Hogwarts - and conjured her patronus. She could still remember every sound, every smell from that day. The translucent, white otter floated around her – the epitome of happiness.

"Your patronus is weak." The voice behind her made her jump, and the otter disappeared into a silvery mist.

She was too surprised to be offended by his negative comment. Malfoy was standing behind her, hands in pockets.

"It's beautiful, though." His compliment had erased all coherent thoughts from her mind. When intelligible words finally came back to her, she spoke.

"Th- thank you." She stared at him. He stared back. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same. It's cold out here." He sat down on the ground next to her. This simple act was enough to shock her back into silence. Draco Malfoy, in his fancy dark slacks, was sitting in the grass. Next to her. She realized she should probably say something. He was finally talking to her, after all.

"I just wanted some time to think."

"You couldn't do that inside?" There was a hint of that snarky Malfoy she'd always known and hated. Just a hint, though. The question was mostly sincere.

"Nobody bugs me out here. Well, except –" she stopped herself, not wanting to sound rude.

"Except me." He didn't look bothered by it.

"Yeah…" she trailed off, lamely.

Silence. It wasn't uncomfortable, though, as it was with most people. Hermione felt no need to fill it. They both looked out at the lake; the sun was just starting to set.

"What happened to you, Malfoy?" She couldn't stop herself from asking. It was the question that had been eating at her for the past month of her life almost non-stop.

"Nothing."

"You've changed."

"The war changed everyone. Even you."

"It's more than that. I know it is."

"You don't know everything, Granger." There was no malice in his voice. It was just a matter-of-fact statement.

Feeling a bit more daring, she asked, "But what happened to all those "pureblood superiority" ideas you held so dearly? Mudbloods, and all that."

"They still hold."

"Then why are you talking to me?" This was the first thing she said that had elicited any reaction out of him. He looked slightly pained.

"I can't explain it."

"Explain what, exactly? I'm as much of a 'mudblood' as I used to be." There was no anger in this conversation, from either party. Hermione found herself yearning for understanding more than anything else at this moment.

"That word doesn't affect you anymore." She knew he was referring to her casual use of the word 'mudblood.'

"I've heard it a lot. Tell me what's changed," she pressed. She no longer cared if she angered him. She almost wanted to, just to see some emotion other than pain on his face.

"You won't understand."

"Try me."

"No."

"Please just tell me." He looked over at her finally, and whatever he saw caused him to give in. He sighed.

"You're the exception. The only one I've found."

"What?"

"You really are the brightest witch of our age. And you have dirty blood. I don't understand it. You're better with magic than any pureblood our age."

"Maybe it's not me that's the exception. Maybe it's the ideas that are twisted." He dismissed her thought with a wave of his hand.

"No. You are the exception. It almost ruined everything, you know. You almost ruined everything." There was still no anger. He was just thinking out loud. He didn't mean for his words to hurt her, as he had so many times before. And somehow, they didn't hurt her at all, as they normally would have.

"How?"

"You made me question everything."

"That's a good thing."

"It isn't… It wasn't."

"No matter what the idea, it's always good to question it." At least he had come up with his own ideas, she thought to herself. He thought about her statement for a few moments before responding.

"Maybe."

Hermione felt pleased with herself. Not only had he confided in her, but he agreed with her, as well. At least to some extent. There was something else she was very pleased with – but she wasn't ready to admit that it was the fact that she was his exception. Those feelings conflicted with her values, and she wasn't ready to face that, yet.

Hermione stood up. "I should probably go…" She didn't want to, but whenever she was away for too long, Harry and Ron would go looking for her. They would start in the library, of course, so she had some time still. "This has been… erm… nice."

"Indeed. Maybe we can do it again sometime."

"I'd like that." That was the truth. There were very few people she knew that she could hold a calm, intelligent conversation with about politics or morals and principles.

As Hermione regretfully made her way back to the castle, she wondered what Harry and Ron would think if she told them about this. Knowing that the reaction could only be bad, she decided against it, and she really enjoyed it.

Little did she know, they were already well aware of what had happened; they had seen her with Malfoy.


End file.
